Regulating the press

A royal reckoning

Press reform hits another obstacle

ALMOST everybody involved in the clean-up of Britain’s press that has followed revelations of industrial-scale phone hacking at the News of the World and Lord Justice Leveson’s subsequent report into the affair agrees on two things. First, Fleet Street must be regulated more effectively than it was by the tame Press Complaints Commission. Second, it must essentially regulate itself: a press law is too jarring a prospect for Anglo-Saxon democracy. But at that point consensus ends, and the rows begin.

On March 14th David Cameron announced that talks between the three big political parties had broken down. Labour, the Liberal Democrats and many victims of phone-hacking consider some legal underpinning necessary to create a self-regulating body that can crack down on press misbehaviour. The prime minister is determined to avoid that. So on March 18th he will propose a royal charter establishing a new regulator, as well as some amendments to a criminal-justice bill that will give the new body sharper teeth.

Royal charters have been granted for a millennium, granting privileges to organisations as varied as the 18th-century East India Company and the present-day BBC. Using one would provide a sturdy-sounding basis for a regulator without resorting to a press law. But there is considerable disagreement over how effectively it would bind the press.

Labour and Liberal Democrat leaders, as well as Hacked Off, a vigorous protest group, believe that a royal charter could be gradually unpicked by ministers. They propose a two-thirds majority in both houses of Parliament before it could be amended or revoked. Some newspapers including the Guardian and the Financial Times (owned by Pearson, which partly owns this newspaper) are happy to accept this.

But the big newspaper groups, including News International, Telegraph Media Group and Associated Newspapers, strongly resist any element of statute. Glueing the charter so firmly to Parliament that it would take a major upheaval (and daunting political arithmetic) to force a change means the scope of the self-regulatory body could not easily be changed. That might become a problem as the industry shifts away from newsprint and towards digital operations.

Worse, Mr Cameron has made it clear that he will legislate for exemplary damages on misbehaving newspapers that refuse to join the new regulator. The papers loathe that prospect, and warn darkly that the European Court of Human Rights may well strike it down. But the prime minister is giving no ground on the introduction of exemplary damages. “Tough—they’re coming,” he promised.

For both sides, the politics are ugly. Mr Cameron has forced Labour and the Lib Dems to choose between backing his plan and coming forward with a proposal for statutory backing. Yet they could defeat the government if they stay unified, denting Mr Cameron’s authority. Meanwhile another reform hangs in the balance.

The Defamation Bill, supported by all the main parties, was intended to diminish London’s deserved reputation as the world’s libel capital. England’s sweeping laws have been exploited by religious groups, oligarchs and companies objecting to critical or scientific scrutiny. But an amendment to the bill by Lord Puttnam, a Labour peer, which bolted on proposals for press control, overwhelmingly passed in the House of Lords. Mr Cameron has refused to allow the bill to return to the Commons for final assent with that clause attached. More than just the future of the Fleet Street’s titans is at stake in this long-running row.